


5 Times Albus Dumbledore Should've Said I Love You (and 1 Time He Shouldn't Have)

by violettavioletta



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Good Albus Dumbledore, M/M, POV Albus Dumbledore, Past Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:13:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29491131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violettavioletta/pseuds/violettavioletta
Summary: For someone who believed so strongly in the power of love, Albus Dumbledore sure had a difficult time expressing emotion. Scenes from his life where he should've told someone how much they meant to him, but couldn't.
Relationships: Aberforth Dumbledore & Albus Dumbledore, Albus Dumbledore & Ariana Dumbledore, Albus Dumbledore & Harry Potter, Albus Dumbledore & Kendra Dumbledore, Albus Dumbledore & Percival Dumbledore, Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14





	1. Percival

Albus's father didn't tell him what he was going to do before he did it. Maybe he thought Albus too young, maybe he was afraid his son would talk him out of it, maybe he didn't even realize what he was doing until he was already doing it. But the morning after he had attacked the boys, after he'd gotten his revenge on them, Albus woke up from a sleepless night to a flurried household. Ariana was still in bed, but his parents, rather than sitting by her bedside, were flying around the house, tucking things away, moving things about.

"Mum? What's going on?" Albus asked, rubbing his eyes. His mother shared a long glance with his father.

"Dad's probably got to go away for a bit, Albus", she finally said, "And we're making sure that everything is in order before he does. Why don't you go collect the eggs from the chicken coop, dear, no one's done that yet. See if Abe wants to help you!"

They both pointedly ignore that fact that collecting the eggs was Ariana's job, and that is why no one has done it yet.

Albus is not placated by this answer. He is a very intelligent child, he knows something is being hidden from him. But he recognizes that he is being sent off, and so he climbs the stairs quietly, so as not to wake Ariana, and passes her closed door quickly on his way to wake Aberforth. Aberforth, of course, is already awake. He has always been closer to Ariana than Albus has been, if Albus could not sleep, he doubts Aberforth could have. He explains quietly that Mother needs them to collect the eggs from the chicken coop, and there must have been something desperate in his eyes when he said it, because Aberforth does not argue, does not point out that collecting the eggs is a one person job. He simply slips his shoes on very quietly and follows Albus down the hallway, past Ariana's closed door. Neither of them says anything until they are outside.

"Al", Aberforth says quietly, and Albus is afraid, because Aberforth is never quiet, "What are Mum and Dad doing?"

"Just… just cleaning some things up, Abe", Albus says, and he knows his tone is not very convincing, "Let's just get the eggs, okay?" Aberforth nods, and there is no more conversation as the boys make their way across the yard and carefully tuck eggs into the basket. There are less than usual. Perhaps even the chickens could sense what a terrible, broken day it is, and couldn't find it in themselves to lay the proper amount of eggs.

Once they've loaded up all of the eggs, they turn wordlessly back to the house, and Albus finds himself thinking that perhaps it will be alright after all. But then he steps inside the house and stops abruptly, Aberforth on his heels. There is a man standing in the front hall, wearing Magical Law Enforcement robes. His parents are standing on the other side of the house, and his mother is clutching his father's arm very tightly.

"Percival Dumbledore", the man in the front hall says, his voice low, "You've been accused of brutally assaulting three muggle children. Come quietly now, or we will take you by force."

Albus's eyes go wide. They've got the wrong wizard! His father has always taught his children the truth about that blood purity nonsense, taught them that muggles are just as good as they are. Albus expects his father to argue, to explain that they've made a mistake, but he doesn't. He only sighs, turns to his sons and wife.

"I love you", he says, and then he pries his wife's hand from around his arm, turns to the man and carefully, slowly drops his wand, and puts his hand up. Albus realizes he's dropped the basket of eggs onto the ground, breaking them. He hears Aberforth yelling after their father, hears his mother yelling, "I love you!" and somewhere deep inside him it occurs to him that he ought to yell "I love you!" too, because he isn't stupid, he knows his father isn't coming back. But he can't do it, he just can't. All he can do is stand there and stare at that basket of broken eggs, and even later, when his mother ushers him away, he does not say anything. He does not say anything for a long time.

The basket of broken eggs sits on the floor where he dropped it for days, sits there until is molds, and only then does his mother seem to notice it, and sweeps it away.


	2. Kendra

Albus is fifteen, home from Hogwarts for the summer holidays, when he hears it. It is late at night, and Albus doubts anyone else knows he was awake, out in the backyard to study the stars. He is so engrossed in thinking about his findings as he sneaks back upstairs to his bedroom that he almost does not hear the quiet sobs coming from the kitchen.

He freezes in his tracks. At first, he thinks it is Ariana. That wouldn't be unusual, it's very late, and Ariana often wakes up late at night with night terrors that she can't quite remember but terrify her. When this happens, either his mother or occasionally Aberforth will take her downstairs, make her some tea. But no, there is no other voice, no other sound coming from the kitchen. Whoever is in there is alone. Albus quietly peeks his head around the corner, and he jumps a bit when he realizes that it is his mother. He takes another quick glance around the kitchen, but his initial suspicions were correct- she is alone.

Her head is in her hands, and she is bent over the table, crying quietly but violently shaking nonetheless. She does not see him, and Albus isn't sure what to do. He knows what she is crying about. Ariana would have received a Hogwarts letter today, had she been able to. Ariana, of course, is unaware of this. He isn't sure about Aberforth, the boy adores Ariana, of course, but his brother is certainly not the type to remember when letters are supposed to come. His mother, however, would have been acutely aware. He knows she knows that Ariana was never going to be able to attend Hogwarts, that she has known for a long time that Ariana is too delicate and tragic and broken to ever be able to use magic properly. Still, to finally have that confirmation that her daughter is never going to get better, never going to be normal and happy and free… Albus knows why his mother is crying, alright.

He knows what he should do, of course. He should go in and give her a hug. Make her a cup of tea, sit down with her for a bit. He should tell her he loves her. Yes, he should march right in there and say "I love you very much, Mum", and sit with her until they both feel a bit better. _Just do it_ , something screams in his brain, _go on then, do it!_

But he doesn't do it. Not tonight, and not ever. In the end, this situation is far beyond the likes of brilliant Albus Dumbledore, and he does not know how to comfort his mother, does not know how to tell her that he loves her, and so he does not try. Instead, he turns on his heel as quietly as possible and creeps up to his room where he sits until dawn, working through his astronomy observations. He does not hear his mother come up to bed.


	3. Ariana

It was well past midnight when Albus heard the screaming. He hardly jumped- he had lived in the same house as Ariana for a very long time, he was used to the night terrors. For a moment, he expected to hear the sound of his mother running down the hallway, ready to comfort Ariana. But no, he reminded himself, he would never hear that sound again. His mother was dead, and she was going to stay dead. It was only him now, only him and his brother and his poor mad sister.

Speaking of his brother, he heard the door across the hall open, and he knew the boy was awake, was going to see Ariana. For his part, Albus sighed very quietly, and tried to return to the article that he was writing. It was better this way, he told himself. He had never been his sister's favorite, not even when they were children. It was why she had been able to run off in the first place, nearly ten years ago, why those muggle boys had been able to get her- because he did not understand her, had never understood her, and couldn't have stopped her from getting away if he tried. And so, all these years later, Albus sits up well into the night with his books and his thoughts and his guilt, and listens to his sister screaming, and lets Aberforth handle it, because he cannot. Lets Aberforth handle it, because he is a coward. Usually, Aberforth is able to calm Ariana so quickly and smoothly that she hardly realizes she has woken up, slipping peacefully back into sleep.

Tonight, though, it does not sound as though that is the case. He can just barely hear his brother through the walls, speaking in a softer voice than Albus has ever heard him use, but it is impossible to make out what he is saying over the sound of Ariana's continued cries, her strangled screams. Albus gives a rather violent start when he realizes she is screaming his name.

His door flies open, and Aberforth is there. "She's calling for you", Aberforth says, "Couldn't tell you why. But she's calling for you." Albus can see the confusion and touch of resentment in his brother's eyes. He knows his brother doesn't understand, that he thinks he is avoiding their sister because he is bored of her, resentful of her. He doesn't understand the truth, that Albus cannot look at her without being filled to bursting with his own guilt, cannot look at her without seeing his father and mother and everyone else he could not save, cannot look at her without wishing it had been him, all those years ago.

Albus isn't sure if he could explain this, if he tried. But he doesn't want to try. He doesn't even know where to begin. In all his brilliance, the proper words for situations like this have never come easily to Albus Dumbledore, despite his extensive experience in searching for them. And so he sighs, squares his shoulders, and contorts his face into his best impression of annoyance, of boredom.

"I'm a bit busy, Abe", he says, gesturing the the parchment in front of him, " _Transfiguration Today_ said they wanted this by Monday."

Aberforth's face is truly hateful now. "You care more about some stupid magazine than your sister?"

"Of course not", Albus says quickly, "But you've got it handled, don't you? She probably can't even tell us apart like this, not really. You go, Aberforth. She likes you better anyway."

And so Aberforth goes, throwing him one last hateful glance, and slamming the door behind him so hard that the plaster crumbles. Albus could repair it instantly, but he doesn't. He sits in the dark and listens as hard as he can to the scene next door, listens as his sister's wails grow louder and louder when she realizes he will not be coming.

He _wants_ to go in there, he realizes rather abruptly. He wants to go in there and brush his sister's hair from her face and get her some water and tell her that he is sorry, that he loves her, oh Merlin, he loves her.

But he doesn't. He is a coward, and so he doesn't.

It takes a few more minutes, but eventually, Ariana's screams grow quiet, and fade to nothing. He hears Aberforth return to his own room, and for a moment he considers slipping into the room next door and sitting in the chair by Ariana's bed, just in case she wakes up again. He doesn't, though.

He doesn't.


	4. Aberforth

Albus has never like funerals, on principal. He has never thought them to be for the dead, not really- not, funerals are for the living, he has always known this. He has organized his mother's funeral, of course, because that was what he was expected to do, had organized Ariana's in a perpetual state of shock, again because it was what he was expected to do. But that doesn't mean he has to like funerals, doesn't mean he has to think they serve any purpose other than easing some of the guilt the living always feel when their loved ones die. And so, now, at Ariana's funeral, he stands dutifully and resolutely off to the side, determined not to cry. He does not deserve to cry.

He is staring at the edge of the casket (closed, so as not to have to explain the light curse damage on her face to their muggle neighbors) when he hears someone approach from behind him. He instinctively whips his head around and is surprised to see his brother Aberforth. Aberforth has not left Ariana's side the entire day, serving as a pallbearer and then sitting by the casket. Albus has tactfully pretended not to notice, but tears have been steadily streaming down Aberforth's face almost constantly since two days ago, since that terrible, terrible moment when they first saw her on the floor. Albus's eyes, however, have stayed resolutely dry.

"Not in the mood to mingle?" Aberforth asks, and though it seems to be a kind question, his voice is bitter. Angry.

"No", Albus says simply. "Not now."

"Why, because your little friend is gone? Don't want to associate with us mere mortals? Embarrassed to be seen talking to normal people?"

"Aberforth, please don't do this now", Albus starts, but Aberforth cuts him off.

"Why not? What, you can think those… those terrible things but don't like being called out for them? You can make all your big plans but can't defend them? You can _kill your sister_ , but-"

" _Shut up_ , Aberforth", Albus says, and his voice breaks, just a little. " _Please_ , just shut up."

For a moment, it looks like Aberforth might just listen. His mouth goes flat. But then…

"You can't even defend yourself? You don't even deny it? Your sister is dead, and you have _nothing_ to say for yourself?"

Albus looks at his brother then, really looks at him for the first time since Ariana died. He wants to say that he does have things to say, plenty to say. He wants to say that he is so, so sorry. He wants to say that he knows he did wrong, he knows, and he will never do it again, he promises. And he wants, so desperately, to tell his brother, his last remaining family, that he loves him. That maybe it doesn't seem like it, but he loves him. But, as always, the words are beyond Albus Dumbledore. He is too busy trying to keep himself from bursting into tears.

And so he says nothing. Not even when Aberforth keeps screaming at him, telling him to _say something, say something, coward!_ Not when Aberforth screams, over and over and over, that Ariana's death is his fault, because he is right, it is his fault. Not when Aberforth pulls back his fist and punches him as hard as he can in the nose, and he hears something crack. Not as Aberforth runs off, tears streaming down his face. He says nothing to his brother then.

And he says nothing to his brother for nearly fifty years after.


	5. Harry

"I feel I owe you another explanation, Harry", Albus says, and he is hesitant as he says it. This is not what he should be saying, not really, but it is as close as he can get. "You may, perhaps, have wondered why I never chose you as a prefect? I must confess… that I rather thought… you had enough responsibility to be going on with."

Albus knows he is crying, and he does not try to hide it, not that he thinks he could even if he did try. Harry stares at him a moment, an unreadable expression on his face, and then he turns away. Clearly, the boy is exhausted. Albus considers sending him to the hospital wing, but he can't do that to the boy, can't send him away like that, not now. Besides, his friends are in the hospital wing, lying in varying states of disarray, and surely it would do the boy no good to see them. He watches the boy for a moment, pondering.

He knows he should say more. He knows there are a great many things the boy deserves to hear, not least of which that Albus loves him. Because he does, that is undeniable. He had tried to avoid it, but in the century since Ariana's death, he has still not learned anything meaningful about love, not really. Not how to show it, and not how to run from it. But he cannot say them. He can't change, not really, and for all his brilliance, he has never been able to work out the things that matter most. Harry, though, Harry has never had the smallest bit of trouble with the most powerful and complicated branch of magic, the one Albus has never been able to master. It is why he is not yelling anymore, why he is not rising up to rage at Albus with white-hot fury. Why he knows that, despite the multitude of reasons not to, the boy will forgive him, has already forgiven him, was never really angry at him in the first place.

The boy's eyes are beginning to close. Albus is not surprised, the boy has had terrible night, a taxing night. Of course he is exhausted.

"Would you like a Dreamless Sleep potion, Harry?" he asks gently. The boy starts a bit. He hopes the boy will say yes, Merlin knows he needs it.

He shakes his head, though. "I'm alright, Professor. I'm just… just going to go to bed now, if… if that's alright."

Albus furrows his brow. "Harry, of course I will not force you to take any potion you don't want to take. But you have been through a terrible ordeal. You have shown more fortitude than anyone ever could have expected of someone many years older than you, let alone of a fifteen-year-old boy. I ask merely that you let me help you."

The boy blushed a bit at Albus's words. "Al… alright then, Professor."

Albus summons the potion from a nearby cupboard. He clasps Harry's shoulder as he presses it into his hand.

"Harry", he says, looking the boy right in his green eyes, "If there is anything else you need, anything at all, please come to me. If there is anything I can do to make your unfairly difficult life easier or any pain I can spare you, I promise you, you need only tell me and I will not hesitate to do so. Do you understand?"

The boy nods, and Albus is happy to see that at least the boy is looking at him, now. "Thank you, Professor."

Albus gives his shoulder one last squeeze before releasing him, and the boy turns to go. And just as he has done so many times before, Albus watches someone he loves walk away, those three words right on the tip of his tongue. And just as he has done so many times before, he does not say them.

As he stumps behind his desk, suddenly exhausted, he realizes that for the first time in a long time, he wants to pour out a hefty glass of firewhiskey.


	6. Gellert

It had been easy to fall in love with Gellert. Perhaps too easy, in retrospect.

After all, he had never had an equal before. Never had someone who could look at his work not in awe, but with a critical eye, making suggestions to improve it, helping him to create something greater and more brilliant than ever he alone could've done. At first, he had merely thought himself in love with Gellert's ideas, with the opportunity he presented. Then, he had tried to convince himself that he was only fascinated by Gellert's ideas, and not by his eyes, not by his lips, not by his hands. Now, though, he is finding this more difficult than he has ever found anything else in his life.

Albus Dumbledore is not used to finding things difficult.

They are sitting in his room, reading, as they often do. Reading with Gellert is so much better than reading alone, because they are able to discuss their respective articles with each other- really, it's like reading two articles at once. Ariana is asleep, as she has been for hours, she is in a fit of exhaustion and is unlikely to wake up for quite some time. Aberforth has gone into town, looking for some things for his goats. It is only Gellert and Albus, now. And though it doesn't really matter, Albus is acutely aware that they are as alone as they have ever been. He supposes it shows on his face, though, because Gellert asks him about it.

"Albus?" he says, and Albus very pointedly ignores how much he likes the way Gellert says his name, with that lovely accent, "Are you quite alright?"

Albus swallows. "Perfectly alright. It's a bit hot in here, is all."

Gellert nods, but his eyes are suspicious. For the first time, Albus considers that perhaps there are some drawbacks to having an equal.

"Ariana is asleep", he says very suddenly. He is not sure what made him say it. "And Aberforth is out. We're… it's just us."

Gellert raises his eyebrows. There is the ghost of a smile on his face. "Is that so?"

Albus blinks. It is too late to turn back now. "Yes", he says, his voice barely a whisper.

Gellert moves a bit closer to him, and his heart skips a beat. "Thank you, Albus, for that fascinating bit of information."

And then Gellert grabs his hand, and Albus's world explodes.

He is blind and deaf and out of his mind, unable to see anything or hear anything or feel anything except Gellert, and Gellert's body against his, and the feel of Gellert's lips against his as Gellert presses him against the wall.

"I love you", he whispers against Gellert's mouth, again and again and again.

He is so drunk on Gellert's kiss that he does not notice that Gellert does not say it back.


End file.
